


how does one so young

by windingwoods



Category: Ao no Exorcist | Blue Exorcist
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Character Death, Gen, rated for violence but it's not very graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-15
Updated: 2017-03-15
Packaged: 2018-10-05 09:01:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10303025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/windingwoods/pseuds/windingwoods
Summary: He’s left his brother at the village, among people and helping hands and everything that’s still standing after the fire; he tells himself that’s where Rin belongs as he takes another step forward in the forest, bow secured to his back.





	

**Author's Note:**

> this is mostly for lee because she came up with the idea in the first place but also, if you're a fan of kids getting their revenge on those who hurt them you've come to the Right Place.  
> title from 'fed up with hunger' by saintseneca.

It’s been days and Yukio still feels ash clogging up his throat when he breathes. Feels soot sticking to his skin and smoke burning up his nose, the afterimage of the fire demon sneering down at him as his father’s altar went up in flames―

 _Todo_ , his mind supplies, loaded with one too many ugly things, _his name’s Todo_ _and you’re going to kill him_.

He’s left his brother at the village, among people and helping hands and everything that’s still standing after the fire; he tells himself that’s where Rin belongs as he takes another step forward in the forest, bow secured to his back.

Tracking Todo is not as hard as he thought it would be, not with the trail of burnt ground he leaves behind, which is probably why Yukio’s not that surprised when he meets them. A man and a woman, speaking in low, quick voices while crouched in front of an ashed stump. Yukio blinks at their heavy Kyoto accent.

“I tell you it _has_ to be him,” the woman hisses, a snake-like fluidity in her words, to which the man retorts, “it could be anything! You saw the phoenix chicks near the river.”

Yukio steps on a stick and they both whip their heads towards him, something already sparkling on the woman’s fingertips that fades fast as soon as she takes a look at his face. One of her eyes is covered by a leather eyepatch, the other is boring into Yukio’s.

It’s the man who speaks up first though, a much friendlier smile on his lips that Yukio doesn’t even think of trusting.

“Hey there,” he says. “Out hunting?”

He’s looking at the bow, probably counting the arrows in the quiver (plenty enough for two moving targets) or trying to recall if there’s any village nearby (there isn’t), and Yukio figures there’s no harm in being honest for once.

“Yes, a fire demon.”

The woman’s on her feet before Yukio can even register it, the sparkling _something_ peeking from beneath her sleeves again as she asks, “Did they give out their name?”

Yukio says it, like he’s being saying it in his mind over and over again for days, and watches the man’s knuckles turn white. He learns a new curse or two.

 

.

 

Juzo and Mamushi, he finds out on the first night they spend together around a campfire, sleep with their backs pressed against one another. “It’s for warmth,” Mamushi says, but Yukio doesn’t miss the smothered fondness in her voice or the smile tugging at Juzo’s lips.

It makes him wonder if they’ve ever slept in each other’s arms back in Kyoto, at the temple they refuse to talk about, before Todo’s arrival.

“What did he do to you?” he asks on the third night; he’s spent the whole day mustering up the courage for one single question and he hopes his fingers aren’t shaking as badly as his confidence.

Juzo opens his mouth after a moment of silence, but it’s Mamushi who speaks.

“He tricked me,” she explains, slowly, and Yukio would think she’s talking about the weather if it weren’t for the way her eye thins to a sliver of bright gold. “Took my right eye, too, so I’m going to rip his heart out.”

“Sorry, kid.” Juzo’s voice feels warmer when he turns to Yukio, even though there’s nothing but cold steel in his expression when he says, “we’re not planning on leaving him to you.”

Yukio dreams of his brother that night, burning and out of reach, and his palms itch when he wakes up.

 

.

 

He doesn’t know when does it happen, but he eases up around them and they ease up around him at some point in between recalcitrant conversations (mostly from his own part and Mamushi’s, he must admit; Juzo is much quicker on the uptake), walking in circles whenever they lose track of Todo and sleepy guard duties.

One day the traces lead them to another burnt down village. They make their way through the ground sticky with mud and ashes that cling to their soles and the tips of their boots.

It’s Juzo and Mamushi who ask questions to the people, Yukio keeps his eyes on the road and his jaw set until it starts getting sore. There’s fire roaring in his ears, Shura’s voice hurrying him to run, dragging him away as the flames make their way to the pictures of them all together as children and the ceiling beams snap and creak above their heads, but there’s also Mamushi’s shoulder bumping against his own and Juzo’s palm pressed in between his shoulderblades, concrete markers of the fact that he doesn’t have to do this alone.

Yukio breathes.

“Wanna spend the night at the inn over there?” Juzo asks, pointing at one of the buildings that apparently weren’t reached by the fire. “The owner said it’d be okay when I asked but, uh, it’s okay if you don’t feel like it.”

He turns to Mamushi first, as if asking for some kind of confirmation, then to Yukio. Whatever Mamushi’s frown must have told him it probably wasn’t very helpful judging from the look of mild inadequacy on his face.

“I just thought it might be a nice change of pace from sleeping outside.”

Yukio looks at the bags under his eyes, thinks about the way he and Mamushi try to hide their grimacing when they wake up every morning, then nods.

“Sure,” he says, puts on the best smile he can find in himself.

Later that night he can feel someone’s fingers (probably Mamushi’s, they’re cold to the touch but delicate, barely there and so much different from Shura’s and his father’s roughness) carding through his hair while he’s lying in his _futon_ pretending to be already asleep.

“Worried about him?” Juzo whispers, to which Mamushi whispers back, “he’s still a kid, he shouldn’t be doing this.”

Yukio wonders if it’ll ever be as simple as that for him.

 

.

 

The day they find Todo it’s raining the whole sky down on them.

He’s standing in the middle of a clearing and already smiling down at them like they’re guests he’s been waiting for. Mamushi growls low in her throat and before Yukio can even turn to her and say something, anything, she’s already rushing towards Todo, the eerie sparkling he’d seen the day they met radiating from her hands again.

Juzo curses, much louder, and the next moment there’s a flame dancing on top of his staff, swaying and growing as he runs.

Yukio blinks the rain out of his eyes, takes his bow out and nocks the first arrow, imbuing it with all the magic and frustration and _anger_ he’s been feeling for the past weeks; _right in between the eyes_ , urges the voice in his mind, but Juzo and Mamushi make taking the aim harder for him and Todo dodges.

He doesn’t manage to dodge Juzo’s staff though, nor Mamushi’s magic― poison magic, Yukio’s sure of it now that he can see a quickly darkening spot eating up Todo’s skin.

Then there’s a flash of light, flames sprouting from beneath Todo as he takes a step back, hand on the injured arm. “Not fair, Mamushi,” he drawls. “I’m the one who taught you how to fight.”

“ _Die_ ,” Mamushi retorts, at the same time as Juzo manages to make his way through the flames. Yukio fires another arrow, this one leaves a cut right below Todo’s left temple.

Todo laughs, the same laughter from the night he turned Yukio’s home into a charred shell, but it’s somewhat breathy and the flames around him flicker under the pouring rain.

“Besides.” Mamushi’s voices comes muffled to Yukio’s ears, overwhelmed by the water and the burning and the blood drumming in his ears. “My father’s the one who taught me magic.”

She strikes again, so fast Yukio could swear her arm looked like a snake for a second, and there’s another explosion of flames.

Yukio fires, hits Todo’s shoulder, then his knee. He can hardly see him by now and he scrubs at his eyes, drenched hair clinging in matted strands to his forehead.

He avoids a few fireballs that end up crashing in the woods behind him, watches Juzo being thrown against a tree and getting back up, staff already swinging a breath away from Todo’s head.

Todo who falters for a second, winces openly when his knee buckles, and that’s all it takes for Mamushi to whip out a dagger from her sleeve and jab it into his back. Flames run up her arms and she cries out, raw and bloodcurdling, but she doesn’t pull back.

“Quick!” she yells instead, and Juzo lands his staff square in Todo’s stomach with enough force to make him and Mamushi stumble backward.

Yukio ignores the stray flames lapping at his feet and reaches out for his last arrow. He nocks it, bites down on his lips as he tries to stay his hands and take the aim.

Todo’s voice dies in a gurgle when the arrow pierces through his throat.

 

.

 

They make a pyre of the body with sacred fire until they can seal the ashes, Juzo assuring that the people of Myoda are going to take care of it once they make it back to Kyoto.

Yukio doesn’t feel anything in particular, or rather he’s not sure of how to name what he’s feeling except for some kind of totalizing surrealness, maybe relief. He insists on taking care of Mamushi’s burns and Juzo’s most likely cracked ribs though, not quite daring to meet their eyes as he bandages them up.

It’s Mamushi who reaches out first, leaning her head against his for a moment, maybe in lieu of ruffling his hair as her injured arms lie limp by her sides.

“Thanks,” she says, soft the way she gets sometimes when Juzo cradles her to his side. “You did well.”

“Yeah,” Juzo chimes in, “in the end I guess we did it together, huh.”

Yukio looks up at him like a snapped string, something inside of him tugging and thrashing. He thinks of Rin, of the village and the quiet mornings with Shiemi, the days spent hunting and trying to keep up with his father, with Shura, but ultimately always with his brother―

“Could you, ah.” He licks his lips. “Could you take me with you? To Myoda?”

Juzo looks over at Mamushi, who shrugs. “The Master has been worrying about his son not having many friends lately.”

They both snort a little at that and Juzo even manages to elbow her, way too carefully to be of any significance. “Man, you just can’t be honest, can you.”

Mamushi curb stomps his foot with far less delicacy, but when she turns back to Yukio there’s something like hope and nervousness in her stare.

“You can come with us,” she says, and Yukio’s cheeks feel sore when he smiles wide.

**Author's Note:**

> i apologize for the rushed fighting scene and possibly ooc mamushi i don't know a single thing my guy


End file.
